The Gang vs The Lawyers
by Obsessive Explosion
Summary: Spike and Angel have a plan to team up and break into Wolfram & Hart, but things become more difficult when Angel gets drunk.
1. Chapter 1

A/N - This is the first Buffyverse story I ever wrote. It's not explicitly Spangel but it definitely has pre-Spangel themes. There are going to be four chapters in total.

* * *

"Angel Investigations, we help-"

"Good. Big man in charge. Listen close."

Angel blinked at the phone in confusion, hoping desperately that this wasn't happening. "Spike?"

"Course it's Spike. Listen-"

Angel sighed. Cordelia was home getting ready for a shoot, Wes was in England trying to expand his library, and they didn't have a case on tap at the moment (which Angel had mixed feelings about, seeing as how they desperately needed the money). But since there was nothing he could do about that, Angel had been looking forward to a relaxing evening alone.

"Why are you calling me?" he asked.

Spike sighed heavily from the other end. "It's Dru. She's gone and got herself captured, I need this spell to get her free. This guy I threatened at Wolfram and Hart said you could break in and get it for me."

"Why would I?" Angel asked, feeling his evening slipping through his fingers.

"It's Dru-"

"I don't care," Angel snapped. "One less psychotic vampire sounds pretty good to me. Go after her, maybe you'll get staked too."

Spike made a miffed sort of sound and sighed again. "Do it or I'll kill your friends."

Angel raised an eyebrow, knowing that Spike couldn't see it, but feeling that it improved the effect anyway. "Even without the chip, I wouldn't be too worried."

Spike growled. "I'll kill you?"

Angel laughed into the receiver and reached to hang up the phone.

"Wait! Don't!"

"Well?"

Spike paused. "...I'll pay you," he mumbled, voice thick with misery.

Angel considered his options, the lights choosing this moment to flicker ominously. He looked over at his desk, the unpaid electric bill stacked neatly atop the late mortgage and the overdue utilities bill.

"Fine," he said unhappily. Hopefully, he wouldn't have to do too much this evening, maybe a little research or a bit of legwork.

"I'll be there in an hour," Spike said, and hung up before Angel could protest. Angel dropped his head into his hands. Spike was very possibly the last person he wanted to see tonight, but Cordelia had been nagging at him to get a new case, and money _was_ tight.

Angel groaned and leaned back in his chair, his glance falling on a bottle of scotch on the table against the wall. He considered. He did hate Spike a _lot._ And one drink couldn't hurt, it would just help him unwind. It wasn't like he would get slammed, just get a small buzz going. He thought that having something to take the edge off would make this night significantly easier. Angel shrugged and poured himself a drink.

There was no part of his present situation that Spike was happy about. He wasn't dating Dru anymore, but he didn't want her _captured._ He didn't even want to think about what they were doing to her. Seducing her, probably. He frowned. Even though it had been a while since he'd seen her, he still didn't care for that at all.

And almost as bad as that was the fact that the only person he could rely on to rescue her was Angel. Spike would probably cut off a finger if it meant he didn't have to go to Angel for help, but he simply wasn't sure what to do aside from that. Angel apparently hated Wolfram and Hart, and Spike didn't know anything about the lawyers. There was no way he would be able to successfully break in and get the spell book without the other vampire, even if the thought of working with Angel made him shudder….

* * *

Spike knocked on the door of the address he'd been given. Nothing happened. Spike knocked again. Still nothing. He checked the address written on the piece of paper he was holding, and confirmed with the address displayed on the side of the building. Yep, Hyperion Hotel, this was definitely the right place. And he'd told Angel he was coming, so why wasn't he answering? Spike started pounding on the door. He hoped Angel was asleep, so he would have the pleasure of waking him up.

"Come in!" he finally heard a muffled voice call from inside. Spike pushed himself through the door, feeling embarrassed. He hadn't even bothered to check if it was open.

The second he crossed the threshold, he saw something being hurled towards his head. Well, near his head. A glass bottle hit the wall a good two feet to the right of him and shattered. Spike blinked at it, then at Angel, who was standing in the center of the lobby, swaying gently and clutching another bottle in his hand.

"You missed," Spike said slowly.

"Well…" Angel trailed off, and Spike wasn't sure that he was going to finish the sentence. He looked around blankly for what felt to Spike like an absurdly long time. "I hit one of you."

"Are you...drunk?"

There was a long pause. "Yes," he finally muttered, looking down.

Spike let the silence lengthen, genuinely unsure how to handle the unexpected and unwelcome development. Angel had the grace to look slightly ashamed, which didn't appease Spike at all.

"You're fucking _drunk?!_ " Spike crossed his arms, then felt faintly ridiculous and uncrossed them. "You knew I was coming!"

"Yeah," Angel said, taking a swig from his bottle. "That was kind of the point."

Spike fumed wordlessly, unsure quite how to express his displeasure. "But - you promised - I'm _payin'_ you!"

Spike wasn't entirely clear on how to handle the situation. Usually, even when he was acting the injured party, there was a small part of him that knew most of the problem was his fault. This, however, was different. Spike had every right to be furious, and it was an entirely new sensation.

Across the room, Angel shrugged gracelessly. "I can multitask."

"You think I _like_ comin' to you?" Spike yelled, finally deciding on a course of action. "I don't wanna be here anymore than you wanna see me! Probably less!"

Angel snickered and took another pull from his bottle. "Doubtful."

"That's it!" Spike turned around and strode (rather impressively, he hoped) towards the door. "I don't need your help, I can bloody well do it myself! Have fun drinking yourself blind, I hope you fucking choke."

* * *

Angel watched Spike (both Spikes) leave, a little voice in the back of his head nagging at him. He did his best to ignore it. Spike was a soulless, conniving, selfish, whiny, irritating little _bitch_ , albeit one whom Angel had promised to help. But he was storming out on his own volition, and Angel wasn't duty bound to stop him. He'd much rather stay here, alone with the exciting assortment of bottles he'd found in the hotel's old bar.

The image of Cordelia rose unbidden to the forefront of his mind, scowling at him. That got to him, even through the alcohol induced haze. Angel groaned.

"Spike, wait."

The younger vampire stopped, shoulders set in a look of angry defiance specifically calculated to be irritating.

"What?" Spike said petulantly, not bothering to turn and look back at Angel.

"Don't leave," Angel said miserably. "We...we really need the money."

Spike growled and turned back around. "Can you still do the job?" he asked.

"It's not very hard to break in," Angel said. "I've done it a bunch of times."

Angel swayed slightly. He wished the ground felt a little less tilty. He thought he would be able to give a more confident yes if the world would just settle down a little bit.

"Alright," Spike said. "But I'm not pleased with this behavior at all. I'll be leaving a very negative review."

"Well I'll...I'll be leaving a very negative review of your face," Angel said, hiccuping slightly. Spike groaned and Angel smirked to himself. Then he looked down at his hand. There was still a bottle of tequila there. He took a drink.

"Stop drinking!" Spike yelled. "Let's just go. Before you can't walk anymore."

Angel nodded slightly and followed Spike out of the lobby.

"Alright," Spike said once they were out on the street. "Where's your car?"

Something struck Angel as very wrong about this statement, and he squinted at Spike. "We...we can't _drive_ there. I can't drive now, I'll hit everyone!"

"I'm going to drive."

"Noooo," Angel said. "Nope. You can't drive my car. It's _my_ car."

"Well, how do you suppose we get there then?" Spike asked. He sounded pretty annoyed.

Angel considered. The question was kind of a stumper. Then he turned, and his eyes lit upon the Metro stop, only about a block away. He pointed. Spike looked where he was pointing and groaned.

"We're taking the bloody Metro to Wolfram and Hart?"

Angel nodded solemnly.

"Alright," Spike said. "Come on."

* * *

Spike had read the map and figured out the stop they needed while a very drunk Angel swayed behind him. Then he had bought two TAP cards, since Angel had conveniently forgotten to bring any money. Then he had guided Angel onto the proper train, and now the two were sitting in the corner of a nearly empty Metro car.

"How long until we get there?" Angel whined. Spike considered slapping him. Sometimes a good slap was all it took to sober a person up. Plus it would be fun.

"I dunno," Spike said. Angel seemed to have forgotten that Spike had never taken the

Metro before. Although, to be fair, Spike wasn't sure how often Angel took it either. "Twenty minutes?"

"Huh," Angel said, frowning vaguely. "That's so _long._ "

"We could have driven," Spike pointed out. "What's the big deal about me driving anyway?"

"No, no, no. Never again." Angel shook his head vigorously, then stopped, looking a little ill. "Not after that time you borrowed my horse."

"That was a hundred years ago, and it wasn't even your horse. You stole it."

"Which made it mine," Angel said, frowning. "And just cuz you were 'hungry' is no excuse."

Spike tried not to laugh and failed miserably. "Look on your face was priceless, though."

"So was yours, when I threw you outside a few minutes before sunrise." Angel looked rather pleased with himself.

"You were a right evil bastard," Spike said, trying to keep the admiration from his voice.

"And you still are," Angel said, hiccuping and raising his bottle of tequila to his lips.

"Damn right I am," Spike said happily. Beside him, Angel began chugging from the bottle.

"Alright, give it here," Spike said, nudging Angel in the ribs. He couldn't have the other vampire passing out on him in the middle of the job.

"Don't want to," Angel mumbled, separating himself from the bottle just long enough to glare at Spike.

Spike tugged the tequila from Angel's grip and took a few swallows, then passed it back. Angel grinned happily and punched Spike in the shoulder (harder than Spike would have thought he was capable of).

"Yeah, I know, I'm a bloody saint," Spike muttered. "Shut up and drink your tequila."

* * *

Angel sprawled in the uncomfortable plastic seat, trying not to fall as the train screeched in and out of stops. He was starting to feel a little sick from the motion.

Next to him, Spike motioned for the bottle again. Angel passed it over, hoping that Spike would get a little drunk too and forget that he was mad, and then Angel would definitely get paid. Spike took it and drank, then made a dissatisfied face.

"Empty." He dropped it on the floor of the train, where it rolled under a seat across the compartment, almost hitting the feet of a woman sitting there. Angel supposed she had been there the whole time, he just hadn't noticed.

"Sokay, I have another one," Angel announced triumphantly, reaching into his jacket and producing his backup bottle.

Spike made a small sound in the back of his throat, and removed the bottle from Angel's hand. "I'm going to take this one for now," Spike said, stashing it in his coat. "You've had enough."

"Heyyyy," Angel whined. "I was drinking that. You're horrible."

"You already knew that."

"I hate you."

"You already did."

Angel considered. Spike was annoying, certainly, but Angel wasn't sure he really _hated_ him. At least, he hadn't before Spike took his drink….

"Why is she staring at me?" Angel said loudly, distracted by the woman sitting across the aisle, who was looking at him and Spike distastefully.

Spike looked up and saw the woman as well. Angel watched as Spike let his fangs pop out. He snarled at her, and the woman squeaked and looked away from them. Angel nodded, satisfied.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, you really showed her…."

"Oh," Spike said abruptly. "This next stop is ours."

The train braked sharply. Spike stood up. Angel looked at him in confusion.

"Can you stand?" Spike asked.

"Oh," Angel said. "Yeah…." Angel hadn't really been paying attention to what Spike had said earlier. He hadn't realized he was supposed to be standing.

Slowly, one hand braced on the seat next to him, Angel eased himself into a standing position. The world tilted alarmingly around him. Angel sighed. He was glad he was drunk, he thought that was definitely improving his time with Spike. But he was starting to wish the world would swirl a little less, he wasn't sure how he was expected to break into Wolfram and Hart when the ground wouldn't even stay still….

"Oh my god," Spike groaned. "You can't even bloody stand, I knew you wouldn't be able to handle this-"

"I can stand," Angel said. He was pretty sure he was standing as he said it. And he thought he was only swaying a little.

He followed Spike off the train. The world was steadier when he was walking. He wondered how drunk he looked from the outside. He thought the answer might be "very." He wondered what Cordelia or Wes would say if they could see him now. They would laugh, he thought. Maybe he should try to get them drunk tomorrow night. It would be fun to all be drunk together. And he was starting to think he should be drinking a lot more often….

* * *

Spike headed for the stairs leading up to the street, then paused as he realized that Angel wasn't beside him. He turned around to find Angel standing behind him on the platform, looking slightly distressed.

"What is it?" he asked impatiently.

"I think I'm gonna throw up," Angel said, a little confused sounding. He waited a few seconds, then nodded. "Yep. Definitely gonna puke."

"Bloody hell," Spike said to no one in particular, thinking seriously about just leaving Angel alone on the platform. But he still needed him to get into Wolfram and Hart's offices, at least if he wanted to rescue Drusilla. Which he very much did. Spike groaned and sat heavily on the steps.

"Get it over with," he said, waving impatiently at Angel, who was lurching towards a trash can.

A few minutes later, Angel pushed himself out of the trash can and managed to walk uncertainly to Spike.

"Okay, I'm good."

Spike rolled his eyes. "You're fuckin' slammed, maybe I should just leave you here. You can barely walk."

"Nooooooo," Angel protested. "I'm not even drunk really. Look." Moving carefully, he walked forward in an exaggeratedly straight line.

Spike regarded him skeptically and raised an eyebrow.

"Come on," Angel said, widening his eyes and looking at Spike pleadingly. "I can do it. You need my help."

"Fine," Spike growled, rising to his feet. "Wipe that stupid look off your face, though. You look like someone killed your damn dog."

"It's not stupid," Angel mumbled from behind Spike as they began to climb the stairs. "I've been told it's very effective. Cordy says-"

"Shut up," Spike suggested.

"Kay."

They climbed the rest of the stairs in silence, somehow making it to the top without Angel losing his balance and breaking his neck. Not that Spike was _glad_ Angel was managing to keep himself in one piece. He needed Angel's help, that was all.

"Spike."

"What?"

"Huh. Spike. That's fun to say, is that why you chose it? Spike. Spiiiiiiiiike."

"I will fucking _stake you_ ," Spike hissed, whirling on Angel, who looked rather hurt.

"I was just gonna say that the offices are up ahead. You didn't need to _yell_."

"I can see 'em, I'm not blind," Spike snapped. "And you were bein' annoying."

Angel didn't respond, and Spike breathed a small sigh of relief. "Okay, so how are we doing this?"

Silence from Angel. Spike looked around, wondering if he'd wandered off or passed out or something, but he was standing behind Spike, arms crossed clumsily.

"Well?"

"I'm not telling until you decide to be nice."

"Alright," Spike said, fighting hard to keep his voice even. "I'm... _sorry_ that I was...mean to you earlier. I won't do it again."

Angel looked at Spike out of the sides of his eyes. "I forgive you."

Spike waited a few seconds. "Now...how do we get in to Wolfram and Hart?"

Angel carefully examined the outside of the building for several moments. Spike watched him closely, but he didn't want to interrupt him, not if Angel was planning how they were going to get inside.

Finally, Angel spoke. "It shouldn't be hard," he said. "The offices are closed. And...and no one should be there this late. I bet we can just break a window."

Spike stared at him. "So...will there even be anyone in the building?"

Angel shrugged. "Maybe a security guard?"

"Why in the bloody hell did it take you so long to figure out it's closed and we could just break a window? We're kind of on a schedule! And I could have done this myself if you'd just told me that earlier!"

Angel shrugged, a little defensively. Spike closed his eyes and took a second to gather himself but decided not to press it. Angel led them towards a side window, which he proceeded to smash with his bare fist.

"That won't...set off an alarm or anything?"

"I dunno."

Spike's eyes widened. "You don't know if it'll set off an alarm or not? Would you mind telling me things like that before you...before you just-"

Spike was too mad to finish his sentence, and Angel clearly wasn't listening anyways. Spike watched as he clambered gracelessly through the window, and he heard a faint thump as Angel dropped to the other side.

"You alright?"

"Mmm. Yeah."

The answer sounded rather unsure, but there wasn't much Spike could do about it. There wasn't much Spike _wanted_ to do about it. He kind of hoped Angel had damaged himself from the fall somehow, it would serve him right for trying to work a case drunk and then proceeding to fuck up _every single thing he had done_ since then.

Spike proceeded to haul himself in through the window, then lowered himself to the ground next to Angel. Who was still on the ground. He didn't appear to have gotten up since he'd gone in through the window. Spike sighed.

"Alright," Spike said. "Now, where is this book?"  
"I dunno. Could be a few places."  
Spike waited a few seconds, but Angel didn't seem to have any interest in either elaborating or in standing up. He had just about decided to leave Angel there and tear the place apart when there was a noise from across the lobby. He looked up and spotted a security guard, drawing his weapon and hurrying towards them. A human security guard.

Spike looked at the security guard, then down at Angel, who was still sprawled on the floor and seemed very content to stay there.

"That's it. We're fucked."


	2. Chapter 2

Angel wished that Spike would stop yelling. The floor was surprisingly comfortable, and he wasn't particularly interested in moving.

"Angel, you stupid wanker! Get up!"

Angel twisted his head around and looked up at Spike, who seemed pretty angry. "I don't really want to," he explained.

"I don't give a single flyin' fuck what you want, there's a security guard, you need to get rid of him!"

"You do it." Problem solved, Angel let his eyes slip closed, only to open them again as Spike kicked him hard in the ribs.

"Ouch!"

"I can't do it! He's human," Spike said, and circled around behind Angel.

Angel didn't see the problem. "So?"

"Chip. Head. Blinding migraines."

Angel frowned. His brain seemed to be working a bit more slowly than normal. Finally, Spike's words worked their way into comprehension. "Oh."

He began trying to push himself to his feet, which was more difficult than expected. After a few long seconds, he felt Spike's hands on his elbow, pulling him upright. Unsteadily, Angel balanced and faced the security guard.

"Go on, then," Spike said from behind him, giving Angel a little push that almost knocked him off his feet. He stumbled gracelessly forward, and the security guard took his movement as a signal to attack.

The blurry human rushed at Angel, stake in hand. Feeling a little unwell, Angel dodged out of the way and fought to stay on his feet. The security guard skidded to a stop and came at him again. Angel raised an arm to block his strike, and blinked as the floor hit him hard on the back of the head.

"Roll, numbskull!"

Without thinking, Angel obeyed the command, and he heard the guard's stake splinter as it struck tile instead of Angel. Working on instinct, Angel kicked out and felt it connect. He pushed himself off the ground and toppled onto the security guard. After that, it only took him a few tries to get his fist to connect to the man's face. The man blinked, and Angel frowned a little. Normally, it would only take one solid hit for him to knock a man unconscious. But apparently, that wasn't the case today. He hit the security guard again, and finally, he went limp. Angel clambered off him, still unsteady on his feet and glad the fight was over.

"Alright," Spike said. "Now that that's taken care of, will you please, please tell me where you think they have the book?"  
Angel considered. He hadn't been messing with Spike earlier, he really had no idea where the book was being kept. But there was one possibility….

"It may be in the library," he said.

"There's a bloody library?" Spike almost yelled. Angel winced away from the noise. "Why didn't you tell me that earlier?"

"I just...forgot about it?"

"Can you show it to me?" Spike asked.

"No."

"No?"

"I have something else I want to do."

* * *

Spike had absolutely no idea what in the world Angel could possibly want to do drunk off his ass at three in the morning in Wolfram and Hart. But Angel said it with such authority that Spike did really believe that he had a plan. And anyways, it would be nice to get a small break from the exasperating vampire. He had been furious when he first found Angel, but his anger had somewhat cooled into a sort of weary amusement. However, Angel was becoming useless enough that he was starting to grate on Spike's nerves again, and Spike thought it would be better for both of them if they seperated for a bit.

"What is it?" Spike asked.

Angel swayed on his feet and flapped his hands in a way Spike thought was analogous to him waving the question away. Spike's eyes narrowed. He didn't much care, as long as it didn't interfere with his ability to get the spell book, but Angel was acting fairly suspicious about the whole thing….

"Angel, what?"

"Don't...don't you worry about it. Just...meet up with me after you find the book."

Spike squinted at him, but then shrugged. He supposed he didn't really care. "How will I find you?"

"Mmmm, I'll be loud."

Spike eyed Angel with some trepidation and then decided that he really didn't want to know.

"Yeah, alright," he said, turning away. He walked off in the direction Angel had indicated, trying not to listen to Angel slamming into walls, presumably finding the corners unmanageable.

After a few wrong turns (Spike was willing to bet money, or kittens, on this building being bigger on the inside than the outside), he finally found the library. The room was impossibly big, with books stretching all the way to a ceiling that seemed much too far away.

Spike turned towards the door, intending to seek out Angel and set him on fire, when he spotted a large book neatly labeled "Catalog."

"Okay," he muttered to himself, taking a deep, calming breath. He didn't need the breath, but it made him feel better. "I won't stake the bastard after all. Maybe."

It didn't take Spike as long as he'd expected to find the book, only about half an hour compared to the eternity he'd feared. He grabbed the small red leather-bound volume and walked out the door to find Angel.

As the other vampire had promised, he was easy to find.

"YEAH, TAKE THAT, MOTHERFUCKERS! Good luck reading your files ever again cuz I fuckin' burned them!"

Spike paused, trying to triangulate the sound of Angel's yells. This was made more difficult by the fits of laughter that were interrupting him. He'd forgotten just how _vindictive_ Angel could be. When it wasn't focused on him, it was almost funny.

"You know what's funny I'm a fuckin' vampire and I'm less of a blood sucker than every single one of you!"

Spike turned down a long hallway, trying not to giggle.

"You know, they have a list in Hell, of the worst demons around? The top three go like this…ummm… oh right, it's Graz the Destroyer, Angelus, and then lawyers. That's right, fuckers, you're more evil than my evil alter ego that tried to destroy the fuckin' world, suck it…."

Angel broke off abruptly and Spike choked back his laughter, halting in front of a half-open door labeled "Lilah Morgan." He pushed it open, and Angel twisted around slowly.

"Spike," Angel said, slurring slightly. Spike hadn't noticed it before, but now that they were in the same room, he could tell. "Didja get the book?"

Spike held up the spell book in reply. "Yep. We can go."

Angel didn't respond, instead closing his eyes and letting his head droop slightly.

"Angel?"

"Yeah…." He opened his eyes, but didn't seem any more aware. Clumsily, he raised his right hand, still clutching a bottle, to his lips. He swallowed a few good-size gulps before Spike even realized what was going on. Spike quickly crossed the room and grabbed the bottle from his unprotesting fingers.

"Hey," Angel said. He made a half-hearted swipe at Spike, eyes still closed. "Give...give me that back…."

"I think you've had plenty to drink," Spike said. "Come on. Let's get you back home, and then I can leave and we can hopefully never speak to each other again."

"N-no."

"No?" Spike was getting pretty fed up with all of Angel's shit. He had the book, now all he wanted was for this night to be over.

"I...I want the bottle back."

"Well, you can't have it."

"But I-"

"No."

Angel managed to open his eyes, and lifted his head up to peer blearily at Spike. "I'm...I'm not leaving until you give me back my drink."

Spike considered. Angel was in pretty bad shape, and Spike's highest priority was to get out of Wolfram and Hart. Even if he was only looking at what was best for Angel, that was still the first thing he needed to do. Vampires couldn't die from alcohol poisoning, he didn't _think,_ so really what would help Angel the most was simply going home and sleeping it off. He would have a killer hangover, but should be no worse for the wear aside from that.

"Alright," Spike said. "But only _one_ more drink. You've had plenty."

"You mean two more?"

Spike felt his hands clench at his sides. He fought to keep his voice even. "Oddly enough, I don't. If you have two more drinks I'll be carrying you home on the metro, and I won't do that. I'll leave you on the street for the bloody lawyers to find tomorrow. One more."

"Alright," Angel said. "One more."

Spike looked down at the bottle. It was still about a third full. He considered chugging what was left before handing it back to Angel, he wasn't even sure the other vampire would notice. But he figured one of them being drunk was plenty. He handed the bottle back to Angel.

"Hah," Angel said, voice small. "You gave me my bottle back."

Angel looked down at the bottle in his hands. His throat worked, and for a second Spike was afraid he was going to be sick right there. "Actually, I...think I'm going to have zero more drinks."

"Alright, great," Spike said. "Probably for the best. Now can we go?"

Angel nodded, but made no move to get up from the desk. Spike waited a beat, then sighed in annoyance.

"Some time before dawn, preferably."

Angel nodded again and started struggling to push himself upright. Spike considered just watching him flounder, but he did have somewhere to be. Slightly reluctantly, Spike stepped forward and pulled Angel to his feet.

"Come on, then," he said, starting for the door. He stopped as he realized Angel wasn't following him. "What now?"

Angel was standing where Spike had left him, staring at his feet in distress.

"Angel," Spike snapped, already going to retrieve him. "We need to leave, now."

"'M tryin," Angel mumbled, somewhat incoherently. "Feet...aren't working good."

Spike rolled his eyes and grabbed Angel's arm, intending to steer him out of the building. He stepped forward, and found himself suddenly taking all of Angel's weight as the other vampire stumbled heavily.

"Fuck, you can't even walk, can you?" Spike asked, starting to feel sympathetic despite himself. He'd been there.

"Nuh uh," Angel said, sounding utterly miserable.

"Fine." Spike draped Angel's arm across his shoulders and began to drag him out of the office. "You owe me one."

* * *

Angel was no longer having fun. The world was spinning around him, and he couldn't seem to walk or stand or even think properly. The contents of his stomach were lurching unpleasantly, and every time he swallowed he half-expected them to come back up.

"Still with me?" Spike asked from beside Angel. He sounded almost worried, which couldn't be right. Angel must be imagining it.

"Hey." Spike shook him a little, and Angel fought the urge to throw up right then and there. "Answer me. You alright?"

Angel thought that through. He wasn't entirely sure he was alright, but he couldn't force the words out. He managed a noncommittal mumble.

"Just...stay upright til we leave the building, yeah?"

Angel opened his mouth to ask Spike why he was still here, but all that came out was a small whimper.

"Alright," he heard Spike say. "Alright. You're okay, come on, we just have to get back out to the street and we can call a cab…."

Angel managed a small nod. He realized that his head was pressed in to Spike's shoulder. He wasn't particularly happy with that situation, but there wasn't exactly a lot he could do about it. There was no way he was going to be able to lift his head up. It was absolutely all he could manage to keep his legs from giving out beneath him.

"You know this is entirely your fault, right?" Spike said. "You're stupid. If you weren't, this wouldn't be happening. It's because you can't hold your liquor-"

Angel tuned Spike out. Trying to follow along with what he was saying was too hard right now. He needed to concentrate on walking. And not throwing up. Those were the important things. Yeah. Yeah, he could do this….

It was a few minutes later that he realized they had stopped walking. And immediately after that, he realized that Spike was talking to him. Angel lifted his head to look at him. Spike was pretty blurry. Angel blinked, wondering if he could get Spike to focus. He couldn't. He looked down at the floor again.

"Angel," Spike said. "Angel. Angel, come on, just listen to me for a second…."

Angel thought that Spike had been trying to talk to him for a while. He wasn't sure what he'd been saying. He nodded again, to indicate that he was paying attention now.

"Angel, are you listening to me?" Spike asked again.

"Mmmm, yes," Angel said. His voice was quiet. He wanted to talk louder, but it was too hard.

"We're going down the stairs now, okay?"

"Mmm. Okay."

"So you need to concentrate. Or I'm going to drop you on your face. It's only a few flights."

"Okay," Angel said softly.

"It's just...a little bit longer."

"Yes," he whispered. He hoped Spike was right, and it wouldn't be much longer. He didn't want to be upright anymore. He didn't know how much longer he could keep from vomiting. He just wanted to sit down and see if he could get the world to stop spinning.

* * *

Angel wasn't doing well. Spike was taking most of his weight, and Angel was just stumbling weakly along next to him. Angel's cheek was resting on Spike's shoulder, which was a situation that Spike found somewhat distressing. He wanted to move him, but he didn't think there was another way to keep him supported. If Spike were to take any less of Angel's weight, he was sure that Angel would fall.

They reached the stairwell, and Spike kicked the door open and dragged Angel through it. He looked at the stairs, then down at Angel, who seemed to be drooling on his shoulder. "Great. Should be fun."

It proved just as difficult as Spike had feared to get Angel down the stairs. Spike already was taking almost all of his weight, and Angel was barely shuffling along beside him. To make matters worse, every few steps, Angel would trip, or stumble, and Spike would be left holding him up completely.

They stepped down again, and Angel went limp.

"Do you _want_ me to drop you?" Spike asked sharply.

"No," Angel whispered. "Please…"

Spike sighed. "I didn't mean that, not really. I'm not gonna drop you, just work with me here, okay?"

"Okay," Angel mumbled, and immediately tripped again. Spike swore as the sudden weight took him by surprise, and he and Angel tumbled down the few stairs left to the landing below.

Spike groaned and got to his feet, then looked around for Angel. The other vampire was - unsurprisingly - still sprawled on the ground.

"Come on," Spike said, offering a hand to Angel.

"Can't," Angel said, shaking his head slowly.

"You better," Spike replied impatiently.

"I feel sick…." Angel curled up slightly on the concrete floor.

"Fuck, are you gonna puke again?" Spike asked, stepping back, out of the splash zone.

"Uh huh," Angel answered, sounding utterly miserable. Spike waited for him to push himself upright, then realized that he probably couldn't. And while asphyxiation wouldn't kill a vampire, Spike didn't particularly want to watch Angel choke on his own vomit. Not even for the embarrassment it would cause him later.

"Ugh," Spike muttered, and grabbed Angel by the shoulders. He heaved the almost completely limp vampire upright, then dragged him over to the wall, propping him sideways in the corner.

Angel hiccupped, and his eyes widened slightly. He leaned his head forward, choking as the alcohol forced its way back up his throat. He gagged pitifully and threw up a nauseating mixture of alcohol and blood.

"Alright," Spike said. "Now that's done, do you think you can stand?"

Angel shook his head, still staring unhappily at the patch of floor in front of him. Spike noticed that his arms were shaking, and he was glad that he had had the forethought to lean Angel against the wall. Otherwise, he wasn't sure he would have been able to stay up on his own.

"You can't stand?" Spike asked. He wondered if he had a way to take even more of Angel's weight than he had before. He wasn't sure he could carry Angel completely, not down a flight of stairs. Would it be easier to just wait here until he sobered up a little? But that would mean a few more hours until he could start searching for Dru, and it also upped their chances of being discovered. How early would these bloody lawyers come in to work anyways?

Angel shook his head again, still looking miserable.

"You-"

"Not done," Angel croaked.

Spike groaned. From Spike's experience, if you started throwing up drunk there were two possible scenarios. Probably, you would throw up once and then be able to move on in a few minutes, maybe even keep drinking if you were lucky. This is what usually happened to Spike. But it was also possible for a body to start rejecting all the alcohol it had been given, even for vampires. If Angel were human, Spike would probably be taking him to the hospital right now. As it was, he still figured he'd better settle in for a good long wait with Angel. It might be a while before he was done.

On the list of things Spike would like to be doing, watching over Angel while he threw up the equivalent of at least six full bottles of liquor was very low. He hated taking care of sick people anyways, and it was _Angel_ on top of it, and oh now he was moaning miserably, and looking up at Spike with pathetic suffering in his eyes….

Spike would rather be drinking rancid blood, or getting his fingernails pulled out, or hell, even having a _feelings_ talk with Buffy would probably be better than this.

Angel coughed weakly, and threw up another few mouthfuls onto the ground in front of him. Spike watched his throat work as he fought down yet another wave of nausea. His skin was so pale it looked almost waxy, and there was a faint greenish cast to it. His eyes were half-lidded. Spike hoped he wasn't going to faint. He wasn't about to hold Angel up while he vomited alcohol onto the ground.

Angel listed forward slightly, coughing raggedly. His eyes closed, tightening in pain, and Spike winced in momentary sympathy. His throat was probably on fire from the alcohol and stomach acid forcing its way back up, and Spike knew from experience that that was an unpleasant feeling.

Then, he remembered it was Angel, someone he didn't even like, someone he'd tried to kill on occasion. Spike shook himself. He shouldn't feel _sorry_ for him.

Then Angel leaned farther forward, and his arms began trembling harder, and before Spike could stop himself he'd shot out a hand to keep Angel upright.

Angel vomited again, shoulder tense under Spike's fingers. "Thanks," he said softly, then began throwing up again.

"Don't mention it," Spike mumbled. "Really, don't."

Angel hiccoughed more alcohol onto the concrete landing and let out a small, pathetic moan. Spike shifted uncomfortably, still keeping Angel from falling into his own vomit.

"Think of it this way, at least you're leaving your lawyer friends a nice surprise," Spike pointed out.

Angel gave a pained chuckle and nodded slightly. He looked up at Spike gratefully, and Spike looked away. This was worse than Angel throwing bottles at his head. It made it harder to hate him.

"Just hurry up," Spike said, glaring at Angel, who dropped his head guiltily. "I wanna get out of here during my un-lifetime."


	3. Chapter 3

Somewhere during the last ten minutes, Angel had decided that he was never drinking again. At least, not when Spike was involved. He was utterly miserable; his throat was burning, his stomach was churning, and somewhere along the line, his vision had gone blurry and his head had started pounding. And even leaving all that aside, he had the uncomfortable feeling that he was making a fool of himself, and he couldn't do a single thing about it.

His stomach lurched again, and Angel gagged as the mixture of bile and alcohol seared his throat. Despite his best efforts, he heard a small whimper that only could have come from him.

Angel closed his eyes in frustration and embarrassment and let his head sag against the wall. To his shock, he felt the hand on his shoulder squeeze slightly.

"'Sokay," Spike said, sounding unhappy. "Happens to everyone."

Angel shook his head. Maybe everyone got drunk on occasion, but if this, _this,_ happened to everyone, he was pretty sure alcohol as an institution would have been given up on long ago. He was fairly certain that he was going to be throwing up forever. As it was, he couldn't imagine his stomach ever settling enough to accept blood, not for the rest of his life. He couldn't even imagine being able to stand. This was it, he was going to die here, puking his guts up, accompanied by _Spike._

Angel heaved again, shocked that there was even anything left to come up. He...he really did have to stop throwing up eventually, right? Was it possible he could start vomiting up his internal organs? He must be getting close to that. He had been kneeling on the ground throwing up for what felt like hours, and as much as he hated to admit it he was close to tears….

"I hate this," he whispered weakly. The words just slipped out, he certainly hadn't intended them for Spike. But he felt the other vampire stiffen beside him. Angel started to groan, but his stomach chose that moment to turn over again and he coughed up more stomach acid onto the ground.

Tentatively, Spike put a hand on Angel's back. "Hey," he said. His voice was...soothing was too strong a word, but at least it wasn't unkind. "You know this is all your fault, right? If you hadn't drunk too much, this wouldn't be happening to you."

Angel wasn't really sure how to respond to that. He just continued leaning against the wall, wondering if he would be better off if he just died now. He didn't look at Spike. It wasn't that he was ungrateful for his presence exactly, but in some corner of his mind he was _mortified,_ and he knew it would only get worse once he sobered up….

His stomach clenched again, but this time, to his great relief, nothing actually came up. He sagged against the wall, arms shaking so badly he was worried he would fall. Apparently Spike was worried too, because he didn't remove his hand from Angel's shoulder. And much as Angel hated to admit it, the knowledge that he wasn't alone in this did help.

Of course, it didn't help much, seeing as how the person with him was Spike. Angel dry heaved again, stomach muscles cramping, throat burning. Spike stood behind him, every moment he watched Angel shudder and heave on the concrete adding to the embarrassment Angel would no doubt feel in the morning. Angel whimpered slightly as his limbs shook beneath him. He was really not having a good night.

* * *

Spike waited a little longer, just barely stopping himself from tapping his foot in impatience. But after about ten minutes when Angel hadn't actually brought anything up, Spike thought he was probably done.

"Right, do you think you can stand?" Spike asked, not expecting much. He reached down to haul Angel upright.

Angel mumbled something unintelligible, staring fixedly at the ground. But he took the proffered hand and Spike managed to pull him to his feet.

"Suppose you'll need help down the stairs," Spike said, then realized with horror that he hadn't even made an effort to sound annoyed. God help him, he'd become inured to the situation.

"Yeah," Angel whispered, flicking his eyes up to Spike, his expression raw with shame. Then, he dropped his gaze and fell silent.

"Sober enough to be embarrassed, are you? That's a good sign," Spike said, not bothering to hide his grin.

Angel didn't respond, just let his head sink a little further into his chest. Spike could almost smell the waves of mortification rolling off him.

Still smiling a little, Spike began dragging Angel down the stairs. The other vampire may have sobered up slightly, but the thirty minutes crouched on the concrete had taken their toll. Angel wasn't tripping on air anymore, but from the way he was trembling, Spike could tell he wouldn't be able to stand on his own, either.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" he asked Angel, who was currently struggling to coordinate his muscles well enough to step downwards.

Angel nodded miserably and clutched at the bannister, hand shaking. Spike sighed. It was no fun when the idiot _agreed_ with him.

Spike helped him down a few more steps. With Angel leaning on the bannister, the going was a little faster. Angel was still clammy and pale, but at least the vomiting seemed to have sobered him up some. He wasn't doing great, but Spike thought he might be doing better than before.

By the time they reached the next landing, Angel was walking nearly on his own. Okay, he was swaying a lot, and leaning heavily on both Spike and the wall, but he was moving. He had not reverted back to the loud, happy, and somewhat obnoxious drunk he had been on the metro, but Spike thought he currently had about as much alcohol in his system now as he'd had then. Spike had been genuinely starting to get a little worried, but now it was fading. The other vampire seemed sleepy now more than anything.

"Alright," Spike said. He was getting tired of nearly carrying Angel, and was hoping that soon he would sober up enough that he could stop. "How are you feeling now?"

"Mmmm," Angel groaned. "Are we almost back?"

"We're...still inside Wolfram and Hart."

Angel made a small, annoyed sort of sound in the back of his throat. Spike sighed. If Angel had just decided to be _sober_ tonight, he would probably already be back in his bed by now and Spike would be long gone.

"I'm...I'm alright," Angel said. "Let...let go of me. I can go faster."

He started trying to shrug Spike off. The fact that he was even strong enough to attempt this indicated to Spike that he really was feeling better, and Spike let him go a little bit. He still seemed shaky and rather unbalanced, but he could stand unassisted, and that was improvement. Spike kept a hand on his shoulder, and told himself that it was because if Angel took a bad fall now it would slow them down even more, and not because he actually cared about the bastard.

"We're at the bottom of the stairs," Spike announced when they reached the bottom of the stairs. He thought Angel might be able to tell on his own, he was unsure how much he was tracking at this point but it was certainly more than he had been before. "Just have to get through the lobby and then we're out of this bloody building."

"Good." Angel glowered at the door to the lobby. "I hate this place."

"Can't wait to see the back of it myself," Spike agreed, pushing open the door at the bottom, then freezing in dismay. "Bollocks."

* * *

Angel felt Spike stiffen beside him, and drunk as he was, he could still tell that was a bad sign. His head snapped up, and he blinked spots away to make out four large demons, covered in spines and sporting some very nasty talons, rushing towards them.

"Angel, what the fuck are those?" Spike asked, sounding dangerously calm.

Angel swallowed nervously and prepared for the coming battle as well as he was currently able. "Demons," he hazarded.

"BUT WHAT ARE THEY DOING HERE?!" Spike snarled, dodging to the side as the demons approached. Angel threw himself into a roll, barely evading the swipe of the lead demon's talons.

"I guess the security guard must have woken up," Angel answered, wishing his head wasn't pounding quite so much. He backed slowly away from one of their four attackers.

"Security - you didn't kill him?" Spike twisted away from the leader's strike and danced under the arm of a greyish beast, managing to elbow it squarely in the chest as he went.

"Umm, no? Champion, remember?"

Spike sagged momentarily, then dove to safety as a dark green demon tried to stomp on him.

"Fine," he said, clearly annoyed. "I'll take the leader, the green one, and the grey one. Think you can handle the ugly one with the face like a squid?" He looked at Angel somewhat doubtfully.

"Easily," Angel scoffed, glaring at Spike. Spike wasn't watching, being somewhat occupied by the three demons closing in on him. Angel switched his attention back to the monstrosity in front of him. The creature was a good foot taller than him, and its tentacles were heavily serrated, waving menacingly in front of its "face" as it approached.

Angel looked down at his hands, which were still shaking slightly. His legs weren't too steady either. This wasn't anything close to the worst odds he'd faced, but they weren't the most encouraging, either.

From the other side of the room, Spike yelped in pain, and Angel automatically turned toward the sound. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the squid monster rushing toward him, its tentacles reaching for him eagerly.

No, this certainly wasn't his night.

* * *

Spike thought that he had bitten off a little more than he could chew. He was a good fighter, he wasn't going to lie. Normally, he could take three average demons without too much trouble. But these demons seemed specially trained. They were _good._ Maybe too good. And it wasn't like he could rely on Angel for help. The other vampire was still desperately trying to get an edge on the one single demon Spike had asked him to fight. Spike figured there was a pretty good chance he was going to have to end up taking that demon out too.

One of the demons had already caught Spike across the chest with a long, curved blade. It wasn't bleeding too badly, Spike didn't think, but he hadn't really taken the time to look down yet. It stung more than anything, which he thought had to be a good sign. If it had nicked anything really important, it would have hurt more.

The grey demon, the one with the knife, came at Spike again. Spike dodged to the side, and felt the knife graze his cheek. He turned back to the demon quickly, before it could figure out what had happened, and threw it to the ground. But he barely had time to blink before another one had come at him.

By the time he had taken out the first demon, he had another long cut carving across his shoulder, and a third one on his opposite forearm, which was slowly dripping blood onto the floor. Spike wasn't worried, he knew that it was blood he could afford to lose. But the one on his shoulder was especially painful, enough that he didn't want to use that arm.

From across the room, Spike heard a cry. He didn't want to let Angel distract him, but he couldn't help himself. He turned towards Angel, who had knocked his opponent to the floor and then proceeded to fall on top of him. He could probably finish the demon now if he was quick, but he seemed stunned.

"Get up, idiot!" Spike yelled. Angel started slightly at the noise, and Spike saw him begin to push himself to his feet.

It was then that the green demon came towards Spike with a dagger. Spike's attention was still on Angel, and he simply didn't see the blade in time. Then it was slicing across his stomach. This wound _was_ bad, almost instantly Spike felt blood start to make the front of his shirt sticky.

Spike stumbled, hand automatically going to the deep slash. He pulled his fingers away and saw red, a lot of it, dripping off his hand and falling to the ever-growing pool on the floor. He blinked, vision beginning to blur slightly.

But the green demon was coming back at him, and the leader was advancing from the side. Spike tensed for attack, wincing as his many wounds protested. The demons rushed forward, and Spike dropped to the ground, rolling under the green demon's swipe and grabbing the sword dropped by the first demon. He came back up, letting his fangs show for effect.

"Might wanna back off," he told the two remaining demons, hoping he sounded and looked more menacing than he felt. "I'm one bad motherfucker in a corner."

The lead demon made a sound that Spike _thought_ might have been a scoff, and stalked forward, baring its teeth.

"Worth a try," Spike muttered, and threw himself toward his approaching adversary. The demon raised its claws, and Spike went low, burying his stolen sword in the demon's gut. Footsteps behind his back startled him, and Spike yanked the sword out and spun around, blocking the green demon's strike.

Then, pain exploded across Spike's back, and he fell heavily to the ground. There was a thump as the leader toppled down beside him, and Spike heard the demon breathe its last.

Ordinarily, Spike would have taken this as a prime opportunity for gloating, but now his back was on fire from the thing's talons and he could barely move his right arm at all anymore. And on top of all of that, there was still one demon left.

The aforementioned demon chose this moment to grab Spike's collar, hoisting him into the air. Spike hung there limply, clutching the sword in blood-soaked fingers.

"Time to die," the demon said in a voice like a rockslide, brandishing its dagger. Spike took a split second to wonder just what it intended to do with a glorified pen knife, then buried his sword in the demon's arm.

The demon roared and dropped Spike again, right onto his injured arm. For a moment, everything went black. And then Spike was moving, and the world blurred into blades and violence and pain.

When Spike's head stopped swimming, he was standing above the demon's dead body, holding the head in his one functional hand. He opened his mouth to say something witty, only to be overwhelmed as a sharp pain in his chest made itself known.

Spike looked down at himself, or, more specifically, at the dagger buried hilt-deep in his chest.

"Oh," was all he managed to get past his suddenly numb lips before his legs buckled, and he hit the floor hard enough to make the world disappear.

* * *

Angel straightened up. His demon was dead. It hadn't been an easy fight for him, he was still feeling pretty nauseous and spinny. But he had done it, mostly just so he wouldn't embarrass himself in front of Spike.

Spike. Speaking of the other vampire, where was he? Angel looked around. All he saw was a pile of bodies on the ground, the demons that Spike had killed. But where was Spike himself? Had he just abandoned Angel as soon as he could reasonably leave with the spellbook?

And then Angel realized that one of the demons on the other side of the room was moving slightly. And had a shock of white-blond hair. And was wearing a leather jacket.

"Spike?" Angel cried, wishing desperately that his brain was working a little better. "Spike? Are you alright? What are you doing down there?"  
Spike did not respond. Angel swore that he had seen the other vampire move, and that's what had attracted his attention. But now he wasn't so sure.

Angel crossed the room, and got on his knees beside Spike's limp body. He examined him carefully. Spike wasn't breathing, but then that wasn't anything out of the ordinary. He had a dagger buried in his chest, which wasn't great but it seemed to have missed his heart. It wouldn't kill him, but it _would_ hurt like hell, probably for at least a few weeks. He saw nothing else on Spike's body that would pose a serious threat to a vampire, although he was covered in numerous wounds, some shallow and some not so shallow.

"Spike?" Angel stage-whispered. "Spike, can you hear me? Spike, we need to get out of here."

Nothing happened. Angel reached out and shook him a little. Spike groaned.

"Wake up," Angel hissed. "Spike, wake up!"

The sound of his name seemed to rouse him a little more, and he slowly opened his eyes.

"Bloody hell," he said, looking down at his blood-covered chest. His voice was quiet, and tight with pain. "They got me pretty good."

"You'll be fine," Angel said, trying his best to keep his voice light and encouraging. "Just walk it off."

As horrifying as the wounds on Spike were, it should lead to nothing more than a few weeks of misery. It wasn't going to kill him, or anything. But there was one scenario in which he died, in which they both did, in fact. And that was if Spike couldn't get himself out of Wolfram and Hart, and the lawyers showed up to find the two weakened vampires just sitting in the lobby with a stolen spellbook. Angel didn't think that would turn out very well at all.

"Spike?" Angel poked the other vampire in the shoulder. "Did you hear me? We gotta go."

Spike opened his eyes and glared at Angel, beginning to hoist himself up with one hand. Then, he gasped and fell back, other hand flying to his chest. "Gonna tell me to 'walk it off' again?"

Angel shrugged sheepishly. It had been worth a try. He grabbed Spike's less injured arm and lifted Spike off the ground, blinking away dizziness as he stood.

Spike made a sort of strangled squeak as Angel pulled him up, his skin going somehow even paler. After a fair amount of internal debate, Angel decided not to mention it. Spike could have just left him on the stairs, but he'd stayed. If Angel stuck with Spike now, he wouldn't owe him anything in the future.

Angel managed to arrange Spike in a way that looked as painless as possible under the circumstances, and they began limping toward the door. With every step, Angel could feel Spike leaning on him, could feel the tension in Spike's muscles as he struggled not to cry out. Angel had to give credit where credit was due, it was impressive that Spike was still holding himself together. The vampire was covered in fairly serious wounds, and there wasn't any good way for Angel to support him without hurting him. Every step had to be excruciating.

Angel dragged Spike a little farther, and Spike moaned involuntarily.

"Do you need to stop?" Angel paused, despite his better judgement.

"No," Spike hissed through gritted teeth. "I can keep going."

Angel glanced at Spike, pale and drawn with pain, then at the trail of blood he was leaving in their wake. Time for him to make an executive decision. He nodded decisively, and Spike mustered the strength to glare at him.

"We can't take the metro," Angel informed him. "I'll call a cab."

"No shit, Sherlock," Spike muttered.

"I'm gonna put you down against this wall," Angel said. "I'll be right over there. If you need anything, scream in agony."

* * *

Spike closed his eyes as Angel moved a few feet away and pulled out his cellphone. Everything hurt. A lot. The world was swimming sickeningly in front of him, and he was a little worried he was going to black out again. There wasn't much he could do to prevent it at this point, if it was going to happen it was going to happen. He was already sitting down, head leaning back against the glass exterior of Wolfram and Hart.

He didn't think he could die from blood loss, but it certainly couldn't be helping. Unless he wanted to spend the next week trapped in the Hyperion with Angel, too weak to move, he needed to do...something. Laboriously, he lifted his left hand and placed his palm over the gaping wound in his chest. It was hard for him to put much pressure on it, his muscles were exhausted, his arm felt like it belonged to someone else….

It seemed to only take a few seconds before his hand was sticky with blood.

"Um, yes," he heard Angel saying. "A cab to Wolfram and Hart please, yes, that's the correct address…."

Spike lazily opened his eyes and looked up at Angel, who was holding the phone like he thought it might explode in his hand but was doing a valiant job of not slurring. Spike could scarcely believe this was the same vampire who had just spent an inordinate amount of time crouched in a stairwell puking his guts up. The vomiting seemed to have done wonders to sober him up.

Although as much as Spike had hated taking care of Angel, he would much prefer that to having the other vampire take care of him…..

Spike let his eyes drift closed again. He was so tired, it simply seemed like too much work to keep them open.

After another moment, he heard Angel walk over and stand beside him. "Hey," Angel said, sounding awkward. "How...how are you doing?"

"Wonderful," Spike said.

"You may...want to try to pretend to be in less pain. When the cab gets here, I mean. It's pretty suspicious."

"Yes," Spike said, still not bothering to open his eyes. "That definitely seems possible."

"I just mean-"

"I get it." Spike wasn't necessarily trying to be snappy with Angel, but he was in a lot of pain, he couldn't help it. A groan slipped out from between his clenched teeth.

"You'll be alright," Angel said. He felt a hand come down on his shoulder. He supposed the gesture was meant to be comforting, but it wasn't. Partially because he didn't like Angel. Partially because there was a knife wound in his shoulder. Spike hissed in pain, and Angel quickly withdrew.

"Sorry," he said, and Spike couldn't see him but he just _knew_ he was hovering there awkwardly with his stupid sad expression. Well, good. This was all his fault. Spike didn't respond, choosing instead to focus on not screaming.

Angel touched him again, this time not on top of a bloody wound.

"What is it," Spike said, noticing his words were slurring slightly.

"The cab's here," Angel answered.

"Already?"

Angel paused. "It's been fifteen minutes," he said, and there was a definite note of worry in his voice.

Spike considered this. It hadn't felt like fifteen minutes. It hadn't felt like any particular length of time at all, just a hazy jumble of pain and blood and nonsense sounds. That probably wasn't a good sign.

"Spike, come on," Angel said, sounding almost panicked now. "We gotta go."

Spike nodded wearily, or at least he thought he did. He wasn't quite sure if his muscles were working the way he wanted them to. He felt a hand on his wrist, and then he was being dragged upright, then shoved into a backseat smelling of cigarettes and curry. The combined scents made him queasy, intertwining with the pain and making him feel as though his stomach was going to claw its way out. He moaned.

"What's with him?" the taxi driver asked. Spike managed to open his mouth to reply, but nothing would come out. Angel would have to handle this one.

"He walked into a door," Angel said firmly. So much for that.

The cabbie laughed. "Yeah, sure. Hope they give you good benefits. Seems like I'm picking one of you lot up off the pavement every week."

"Not good enough," Angel answered, surprisingly quickly. "I gotta talk to HR."

"Hospital?" the taxi driver asked, and Spike felt Angel's hand tense unpleasantly on his wounded shoulder.

"No! No, go to the Hyperion. I...have a guy."

"You're payin' me," the driver answered, and the car began to move.

Spike curled against the pleather seat and tried not to think about whose hand was keeping him from falling.


	4. Chapter 4

Angel was feeling significantly less drunk, and significantly more worried about Spike. It had been several minutes since Spike had spoken. His head was resting against the window of the car, one hand draped across the wound in his stomach in an unconscious attempt to protect it. The seat belt was cutting into his neck in a way that looked uncomfortable, but he made no effort to fix it. Angel didn't think he was asleep, exactly, he would shift slightly or moan whenever the cab took a turn. But he hadn't said anything in minutes. Angel wasn't sure what else to do for him.

The driver hit the brakes as the light in front of them turned red. Both vampires were thrown forward. Spike's eyes opened at this, and he let out an involuntary whimper. This made Angel's chest clench. He didn't _like_ Spike, but the other vampire was normally so tough, and now he was in so much pain….

"You're fine," Angel said, partially to Spike but mostly to himself.

"Clearly," Spike said.

"This is, uh, this is no worse than that time you and I got thrown out of that bar, right? There were...there must have been twelve guys all together trying to kill us, and they...they couldn't even touch us. Well, I mean, they beat us up pretty good. Especially me. I was hurt way worse then than you are now. I mean, my face was all swollen, I had that piece of pipe sticking out of my shoulder, Dru ended up giving me stitches on that slash on my chest. I kept telling her I didn't need them, but you know how she is sometimes…."

"Dru." Spike roused a little at the sound of her name, but not in the way Angel had intended. He sounded a little panicked. The last thing he needed right now was to get all worked up over Dru.

"Yeah, I mean, Dru was definitely there," Angel said, trying to change the subject. "But was she really all that important? No. The important thing is that we took on twelve guys at once and we won. That's pretty cool, don't you think? And a lot of that was...," Angel paused and swallowed hard, "a lot of that was thanks to you."

Spike muttered something unintelligible.

"What...what was that?"

"And then we burned all their houses down," Spike whispered, voice weak and quiet.

"Yes," Angel said. He didn't particularly want to think about burning down the houses of twelve relatively innocent men, but the memory made Spike smile a little.

"One by one."

"Yeah," Angel said with a sigh. "One by one."

The lines of pain on Spike's face relaxed, ever so slightly. A little uncomfortably, Angel reached out and placed his hand on Spike's arm (this time careful to avoid Spike's many injuries).

"We're almost there," Angel said softly. "You're gonna be okay."

"I know," Spike whispered, and then the cab went over a pothole and he let out a quiet, exhausted moan.

"Just...hold on," Angel told him, unsure what else to say.

By the time the taxi driver slammed to a stop in front of the Hyperion, Spike had stopped responding to Angel, not counting occasional whimpers and groans. His skin had turned greyish, making him look even more like a walking corpse than usual.

Not that he would be walking anywhere anytime soon, Angel thought. He shook Spike, as gently as possible.

"Spike, we're here. Can you open your eyes for me?"

Spike rocked slightly, but his eyelids barely flickered. Angel winced, wishing he could go back to being happily drunk on the Metro, Spike beside him being infuriating but _fine_. Spike was supposed to be loud and annoying, not limp and bleeding on the seat of a taxi cab.

Angel shook himself and reached out to open the door. The taxi driver cleared his throat impatiently.

"Ahem. My fare? Plus a generous tip, I think."

"Oh. Right," Angel said, dipping into his (unfortunately empty) pockets. "Ummm…here you go."

Luckily, Spike carried plenty of cash, and he clearly wasn't tracking well enough to realize where the money had gone. Problem solved, Angel climbed out of the taxi and went to the other side to retrieve Spike.

As soon as Angel opened the door, Spike flopped out, almost falling into the street before Angel managed to catch him.

"Aww, no, come on, Spike…. You gotta at least _try_ to walk…."

Spike didn't respond, unless Angel was willing to count silence and some blood oozing onto his hands a response. He wasn't.

"Hey, buddy, get your friend outta my cab. I got to earn a living, ya know?"

"Yes, sorry," Angel said. "We're...working on it."

Angel shook Spike gently.

"Spike, please," Angel whispered. "You need to wake up now, come on Spike, oh my god-"

Spike did not stir. Angel was starting to panic. The alcohol was still making his brain fuzzy, and now he kind of felt like he'd been standing next to the cab, struggling to get Spike out, for what seemed like hours. It was getting uncomfortable, and Angel was not sure what to do. Spike wasn't really blinking anymore, and even when Angel grabbed one of his arms and tugged on it he didn't make a sound.

"Alright," Angel said. He knew he was basically muttering to himself, and it was beginning to make him sound like a crazy person. But he couldn't help it. "I'm gonna...I'm just gonna need to pull you out of this cab. Alright."

He grabbed both Spike's arms and pulled him out onto the street. He knew it couldn't be comfortable for the other vampire, but there wasn't much that could be done.

"Thanks," Angel said, leaning his head back inside the cab.

"Just shut the door so I can leave," the driver said. He sounded annoyed. Angel supposed it was very late.

Angel slammed the door, careful not to hit Spike with it, and the cab sped off.

This left Angel in a bit of a predicament. Spike was still lying on the ground, completely limp, not seeming to realize that he'd been discharged from the cab. Angel wanted to haul him to his feet and then support him the same way Spike had supported Angel earlier in the night. But Angel simply didn't think this would be possible in Spike's current condition. No matter how much of Spike's weight Angel was taking, Spike was completely unconscious, and wasn't going to be able to walk.

Angel groaned. There was only one way he could think of to do this, and neither of them were going to like it.

Angel knelt next to Spike. He shook him one more time, just to make sure he really wasn't waking up. He wasn't. They were out of options.

Carefully, Angel slid a hand under Spike's back, trying his best to avoid putting pressure on the numerous wounds that crisscrossed his torso. Then he put his other arm under Spike's knees, and carefully lifted him.

All Angel could think as he stepped up onto the curb was that he was glad Spike was so out of it. If he had been awake enough to be aware that he was being carried by _Angel,_ he would be mortified. And Angel would be even more horrified and traumatized than he already was.

Spike stirred and moaned a little as Angel neared the hotel. His eyelids flickered, but he didn't seem to focus on anything.

"Don't wake up now," Angel told Spike crossly. "You'll squirm, and then I'll drop you, and that'll hurt even more."

Angel half-expected Spike to come to right then and there, just to spite him. But instead, the younger vampire stopped moving in Angel's arms, his head tilting to an an unnatural looking angle.

Angel edged into the Hyperion and started up the stairs, fighting the urge to panic.

"We're almost there," he said to Spike, not looking for a response. Angel just wanted to stop thinking about the guilt that was creeping in as he looked at Spike's bone-white face streaked with his own blood. In Angel's experience, Spike spent a lot of time covered in blood, but it was usually someone else's.

Angel growled. He wasn't supposed to be worried about Spike, he wasn't supposed to be helping him, and he _certainly_ wasn't supposed to be feeling guilty over him. He had plenty of other, more important things to feel guilty about.

His carefully cultivated feeling of righteous indignation lasted all the way up until he reached an unused room and tried to set Spike down. As he lowered the other vampire onto the blankets, Spike roused slightly and whimpered, shaking his head.

"I'm just putting you down," Angel said impatiently. "Trust me, this is what you want."

Spike curled towards Angel, tense against the pain. His less injured hand grasped weakly at Angel's shirt, and Angel sighed.

"I know it hurts," he said, trying to make his voice sound soothing. "But it'll just be a few seconds, and then you'll feel better, and I'll be right here…."

Angel was pretty sure Spike was too far gone to understand Angel's words. For one thing, if he could process that much, then he wouldn't be holding onto Angel in the first place. But the tone of his voice must have filtered through, because Spike relaxed almost imperceptibly and allowed himself to be set down.

Angel unhooked Spike's fingers from his shirt, and Spike made a disapproving sound.

"I'll be right back," Angel said. "I'm just going to get bandages, ok? I'm still here."

Spike mumbled something, sounding slightly betrayed. With no small amount of relief, Angel stood and headed off to get the bandages, wishing fervently that he was significantly drunker.

* * *

Spike didn't really know what was going on. All he knew was that everything hurt, and his head was spinning, and there had been someone with him but now they were leaving, _leaving,_ and Spike was going to be alone. He tried to say something, but he didn't think it came out right. He wished he could open his eyes better.

Some unknown amount of time went by, and mostly what Spike was aware of was the fire in his chest, and the pounding in his head, and nothing else. He thought he might be lying on a bed, but he knew it wasn't his own. Had he gone home with Angel? How had he even gotten here? God, he wished everything hurt a little less….

Eventually, Spike heard the sound of a door opening. His eyes opened involuntarily, and it seemed to require a lot more effort to keep them open than it normally did. Everything seemed kind of blurry, but he saw a figure coming towards him, and part of him knew it was probably just Angel and there was no need to worry but part of him wanted to fight, even though he knew he couldn't….

Spike tried to push himself into a sitting position, but it was a mistake. Immediately, the world seemed to wink out. Pain pulsed through his body, and he fell back to the bed with a gasp. He wondered if he was about to black out again. He didn't want to, he hated having huge gaps of time he couldn't even account for, time spent with _Angel._ But at the same time, maybe sleep would be easier at this point. His head felt thick.

"Don't sit up," Angel said firmly, and Spike could do nothing but obey. He allowed his body to relax on the bed.

"Do you feel any better?"

Spike thought this was a bit of a stupid question. He wasn't sure exactly how much time had elapsed since the fight at Wolfram and Hart, he could barely remember anything past getting in the cab. But he didn't think it had been very long, and he was injured badly enough that he knew it was going to take some time for him to heal. He thought he would be feeling pretty awful for a while yet.

Spike made a noncommittal sort of mumbling sound. It wasn't an answer, exactly, but at least he could acknowledge that he had actually heard Angel.

"I...I brought bandages," Angel said. Spike didn't respond, it seemed like too much effort. "So...hopefully that will help."

Spike couldn't think of much that was worse than being bandaged by his horrible drunk grandsire. But he couldn't even sit up on his own, and he didn't think he had a lot of options. It wasn't like he could leave. He couldn't even get out of bed.

Spike heard Angel come forward a few steps, so he was right next to the bed. "This is the worst one," Angel said softly, and Spike felt him probing the deep knife wound in his chest. Spike hissed in pain.

"You need to be sitting up a little for this," Angel said. "Is it..is it okay if I help you?"

Spike closed his eyes miserably. This was the _last_ thing he wanted, but if Angel hadn't left yet, he certainly wasn't going to now, even if Spike wanted him to. Spike managed a nod.

He felt Angel slide a hand under his back, irritating the scratches there. Spike growled, expressing his displeasure in the quickest and least painful way he could come up with.

"Sorry," Angel whispered, and moved his hand slightly. "Is that better?"

Spike nodded again, wishing for about the millionth time that he wasn't in this situation.

"Okay, this is gonna hurt. I'm sorry," Angel said, sounding like he really meant it. Spike felt Angel start to lift him, and then every muscle in his much-abused torso and back tensed and the world blurred.

* * *

Angel worked as quickly as he could, winding bandages around Spike's torso over the deep, jagged gash in his chest. Spike had blacked out as Angel lifted him up, and Angel hoped he wouldn't wake up until he had finished. Angel had been where Spike was now, and he knew firsthand that the pain would be excruciating. Dead they might be, but they still felt pain.

Spike blinked fuzzily as Angel was starting on the wounds on his back. Angel saw his jaw set in an effort to keep from crying out.

"You passed out again," Angel informed him. "We're almost done."

Spike nodded, looking like the motion was difficult. Angel winced in sympathy and taped a pad of gauze over the injured area.

"Try not to move around too much," Angel said, lowering Spike carefully back down to the bed.

Spike glared at him (or rather, at a point a little above his left shoulder). "Shouldn't be...an issue," he said, gasping with pain at the end of the phrase.

"And don't...don't try to talk for a while, okay?" Angel forced a small smile. "I know that'll be a challenge for you."

A corner of Spike's mouth twitched, in what could have been either a spasm of pain or a smile. Angel chose to believe it was the latter.

The rest of Spike's wounds were easier to reach, and less deep. Spike seemed to fade in and out a few more times while Angel was bandaging him, but when Angel finished and stepped back, Spike's eyes drifted open.

Angel surveyed the scene, the blood-streaked sheets and the blood-soaked vampire entangled in them, and sighed. He didn't feel comfortable just leaving Spike here, alone, but his alcohol-fogged mind couldn't come up with the correct thing to do in this situation.

"Do you want something for the pain?" Angel hazarded.

Spike turned his head towards Angel, giving him a very clear "what the fuck do you think?" look.

Angel nodded. "Guess I deserved that. I'll be back."

Angel left the room with Spike and wandered to the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of blood from the fridge (a bottle of his own that he was generously sharing, he might add), and a bottle of painkillers from the medicine cabinet. He then returned to Spike.

"Sit up," Angel said, and then realized that of course the other vampire couldn't, and very carefully eased him into a sitting position.

"I...I don't want that," Spike muttered when he saw that Angel was holding blood.

"You need it," Angel said. "You won't be able to heal without getting some more blood in your body."

"I'll throw it up," he muttered, looking miserable.

Part of Angel knew that Spike wouldn't actually throw up, he just felt sick. He needed the blood to heal, and he was going to have to force down at least a little. It would probably make him feel better, not worse, at least after a few minutes.

Part of Angel hoped that it would make him throw up. Angel had spent a good portion of the night puking, and at this point, it would only be fair.

"You'll be fine," Angel said. "You only need to have a little."

Spike gave him a look.

"You can't have any of these painkillers unless you drink some blood."

"Bloody fine," Spike finally said sullenly. Angel helped him drink a few sips of blood, and then gave him the small handful of pills. Angel wasn't sure they would be enough, he wasn't even sure they would work at all, but he was sure if there was a problem Spike would be very vocal about it.

By this point, Angel was really exhausted. The drunkenness was starting to fade into a shaky hangover, and Angel _really_ did not want to be awake when it really hit. He knew he needed sleep, but he wasn't sure he could get it with Spike so injured.

"Do you...need anything else?" Angel asked.

"I need you to fuck off," Spike said. His voice was a little stronger since he had finished the blood. And if he was back to being mean to Angel, that must mean he was at least sort of back to his old self.

"I'm going to sit in this chair," Angel said, gesturing at a chair. Mostly, he wanted to be around in case Spike really did need anything, but he also simply didn't want to walk all the way back to his room at this point.

"All night?" Spike asked bitingly.

Angel chose to ignore him. "Just...let me know if you need anything else…."

Angel sank into the chair and was asleep nearly as soon as his eyes closed.

* * *

Spike opened his eyes and went to stretch. He immediately regretted it as the movement sent waves of pain radiating out from his shoulder, chest, back, and seemingly everywhere else. The pain medication had worn off, then.

Spike automatically bit back a groan and turned his head carefully to the side, hoping Angel had left the pills within easy reach. Much to his surprise, the other vampire was still slumped in the chair beside Spike's bed, snoring gently.

Spike grinned. He might be miserable, but soon enough, he wouldn't be the only one.

"Angel. Oi, Angel. Annnnnngeeeellllllllll…." Spike didn't feel like trying to move anytime soon, or he'd be bouncing things off Angel's nose by now.

Finally, Angel stirred slightly, then jolted upright. "Spike! You're awake- oh god…."

Spike smiled gleefully, ignoring the pain that came with doing _anything_. "Bit of a hangover? Serves you right."

Angel squinted at Spike. "You look awful."

"I've been stabbed," Spike pointed out, letting himself grimace for effect. "Your fault. An' you look bloody awful too."

Angel did look a bit peaky, but Spike was well aware that it was nothing compared to how he must look. He was almost glad that he couldn't see his own reflection.

Angel didn't respond, just got slowly to his feet and rubbed his temples a little. Spike risked a smirk.

"What were you doing here all night, anyway?" he asked, forcing himself to finish the sentence despite the pain.

"Oh...I, umm, I just fell asleep…. I guess I was pretty tired…."

"Yeah, making an idiot of yourself is hard work," Spike said, as cuttingly as he could manage.

Angel sighed. "Look, is there anything you need?"

"Pain meds," Spike said, dropping the act. He let his eyes close, but not before he caught the surprisingly guilty look on Angel's face. He heard Angel go over to the nightstand, then the rattle of the pills inside the bottle.

Angel came over to the bed and helped him sit up, and Spike was almost in too much pain to resent him for it. Almost.

Spike swallowed the pills, wincing as the movement strained the wounds on his chest and back. Angel supported him as he laid back down, then retreated to his chair, hovering awkwardly behind it.

"Okay, well, I need to - umm - get some things done-"

"Like, say, shower," Spike inserted meanly.

Disappointingly, Angel did not react. "I'll bring more blood by in a little while. I'll be around if you need me."

"Yippee," Spike said sarcastically.

Angel made it to the door and paused. "I guess I'm not gonna get paid for this, huh."

Spike very carefully locked eyes with his idiot grandsire. "Hah hah," he said, slowly and clearly. Really laughing would hurt too much.

* * *

Angel was on edge the whole time Spike was in the Hyperion, at least partially because this whole mess was admittedly his fault. Spike left about a week after his initial injury, clearly still in pain, barely able to stand. When Angel had half-heartedly pressed him to stay, Spike had said something sardonic about Angel's abilities as both a detective and a doctor and gone off to rescue Dru.

Angel hadn't gotten paid, but at least he'd gotten rid of Spike before Wes and Cordelia found out. He'd have to be content with that.

Across the room, Wes frowned. "Hmm. This envelope isn't labeled."

"Better give it here," Angel said. "If it's like the last one we got, at least I won't come out in massive boils."

Looking immensely relieved, Wes handed off the envelope. Angel opened it, somewhat warily. Inside was a check, as well as a slightly blurry photo.

"Is it safe?" Wes asked. "Good news?"

Angel looked down at the check (made out to Angel Investigations, for "getting me stabbed but not killed") and the photo, with Dru waving and Spike flipping off the camera. He smiled, putting them both in his desk. "Yeah," he answered. "Yeah, it is."


End file.
